


See How Deep the Bullet Lies

by anr



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-14
Updated: 2009-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:19:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr/pseuds/anr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See How Deep the Bullet Lies

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS: _Stranger_ (10x11)

  


* * *

  


**FRIDAY, DECEMBER 5**

  


He calls her at three am, pulling her out of a sleep that feels deeper than what it probably is. "... where?"

"No case." His voice sounds low, a little hoarse, like it does when he's only had an hour or two's sleep. "Just --" He sighs, and she hears it. "That interrogation?"

_screw you (touch me again and i will)_

She nods and thinks, _a week -- it'll take us a week this time_. "Yeah."

  


* * *

  


She beats him to work by about five minutes, maybe, and leaves a coffee on his desk when she goes to pick up Kristin's mom and reunite them.

It's not an apology -- _breaking down a perp means never having to say you're sorry_ \-- but when she returns her initial paperwork's been filled out and the look he gives her as she sits down says, _me too_.

She looks away first.

  


* * *

  


She heads out to see Greylek, and when she gets back, Huang's just arriving. As they ride up in the elevator, she can't stop staring at the way his coat is so very neatly folded over his right arm.

"I heard you got a full confession from Vasko."

"Hmm?" Looking up, she nods and smiles. "Oh, yeah. We did."

Huang smiles back. "Must feel good," he says. "You know, to be able to get that kind of result so quickly?"

Her smile fades; Cragen must have called him. "Yeah."

For the rest of the day, she takes the stairs.

  


* * *

  


El stops next to her at the vending machine. "You see Huang earlier?"

She watches him feed in a couple of dollars, handing her her soda before hitting the button for his own. "Yeah, you?"

"Yeah." As she starts to walk away, she hears him mutter, "fucking shrinks."

She grins.

  


* * *

  


**SATURDAY, DECEMBER 6**

  


She gets the call just after lunch, and by two o'clock she's on the North River Pier, watching them drag the water. El arrives just as she's finishing up with a couple of tourists who may or may not have seen anything -- the anonymous 911 call was a garbled, fifteen second soundbyte that interspersed the words _baby_ , _thrown_ and _river_ with half a dozen pleas for God -- and she brings him up to speed while they wait against one of the squad cars.

"They trace the call?"

She nods, crossing her arms against the chill coming off the water. "Payphone down the road. CSU's on it already."

"Let's hope they find something," he says.

She grimaces, nodding towards the end of the pier. "Let's hope _they_ don't."

  


* * *

  


They stay for ten hours, trading off coffee runs and food breaks between canvasses of the street, until the coastguard calls it a night. Nothing's been found, and it'll be a catch-22 as to whether that's a good or bad result until they get something more to go on.

"You have plans this weekend?" she asks, as they walk back to their cars.

He shrugs. "Just hanging out with the kids."

"How're they doing?" She knows Eli has started walking recently; she overheard El telling Munch last week that his son had bumped his head on the edge of a table Kathy keeps in her hall. "Is Eli's head okay now?"

He nods. "Won't let me take the bandaid off, though. Kid has a thing for the Wiggles."

She remembers a case, a few months back, where the perp had had a van full of Wiggles memorabilia. He'd snatch kids from a daycare center and then drive them out to the far side of the industrial district, toying with them in the back of his van for hours. The stereo system in the van had been set to play the band's albums non-stop; after they'd caught him, she'd had the line, _we can ride the whole day long_ , stuck in her head for days.

"Shit," she says, and Elliot grimaces like he knows exactly what she's thinking about.

"Yeah."

They walk the rest of the way in silence.

  


* * *

  


**SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7**

  


She's channel surfing and folding her laundry when her cell rings. "Benson."

"I'm almost at your place. Meet me downstairs in five?"

She glances at her watch. "We catching?"

"Coastguard called -- they think they've found our baby."

She winces.

  


* * *

  


The coastguard does find the baby, and Melinda conducts the autopsy. She and El focus on locating the parents and the murderer.

It takes eighteen hours, and what feels like a pound of her own flesh, but they find both and she knows she has to count that as a positive.

"So much for the weekend," El says, tone flat and exhausted as he pulls up outside her building. It's almost two in the morning, and they're due back at the precinct in less than six hours, and she can't for the life of her remember why they didn't just crash in the crib.

"Always next time though, right?" she says. Her optimism is forced and she hopes she doesn't sound guilty; it's not her fault their job has no boundaries.

"Right," he echoes, "next time."

She's pretty sure she sleepwalks her way upstairs.

  


* * *

  


**MONDAY, DECEMBER 8**

  


They go over Heather's case again, this time ignoring everything Kristin's told them.

"I still think we should bring in the sister," says Munch.

Elliot rolls his eyes. "If we begin bringing in every teenager with an attitude problem," he starts, and she knows he's thinking about Kathleen but that doesn't mean he's necessarily wrong. She leans across their desks and snatches the file from his side. 

"Let's start at the beginning again," she says.

  


* * *

  


**TUESDAY, DECEMBER 9**

  


She has court on Tuesday, the Perlotti case. Maria was nine years old when her uncle first started abusing her, eleven when a teacher finally put the bruises and cuts together and called social services.

"Hey, Maria," she says, crouching down beside her outside the courtroom, "how's that new puppy of yours?"

"Ariel?" The smile that lights up the girl's face is breathtaking; she can only hope it's still there when they're finished today. "Oh, Olivia, she's _wonderful_. I taught her a new trick yesterday!"

"You did?" Rising up, she sits down beside her on the bench and smiles encouragingly. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Greylek preparing Maria's mom again for what's about to come; she focuses on Maria. "What kind of a trick?"

  


* * *

  


_Fuck._

  


* * *

  


She waits until Maria and her mom have left, until Greylek has disappeared, before stepping outside. When her cell rings the moment she's cleared the courtroom doors, she's not all that surprised. "Benson."

"Hey." El. She walks off to the side and leans against one of the pillars, out of sight of any media that might still be hanging around. "Not good?"

She nods. "Not guilty."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

She waits for him to say why he's calling -- almost asks him direct -- but his breathing is soft and steady in her ear and --

Closing her eyes, she just listens.

  


* * *

  


**WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 10**

  


She's in the crib when he walks in, her back against her locker door and her legs stretched out, toes pointed, like she's doing calisthenics or yoga or something other than just sitting and decompressing before she heads home.

"Nikki booked?"

He nods as he makes his way to his locker. "Yeah. Heading over to the tombs. Kristin?"

"On a plane with her mom." She watches him open his locker, stare inside, and then close the door. A moment later, he opens it again. "Lose something?"

He shrugs, shutting the locker once more and leaving his palm flat on the centre of his door. She has the strangest urge to ask him if he can feel the imperfections in the metal from where maintenance has smoothed out the indents his knuckles have made over the years. "Wanna grab a beer?"

She looks down at her legs and frowns. "Does that mean I have to get up?"

He snorts. "Yes."

 _What the hell;_ she nods. "Okay."

  


* * *

  


They go to their local bar, a cop bar just down from the precinct, and she knows neither of them really like it there but it's close and familiar. She can't remember the last time they did this, just the two of them on a good day.

"John was right."

"Hmm?"

"About Nikki. He said from the beginning that she looked guilty."

She nods, turning her empty glass in slow circles on the tabletop until the remaining condensation has left overlapping rings. "We should've brought her in then."

"Yeah." Elliot gets up and stands beside her side of the booth. "Another?" he asks, reaching for her glass.

She lets him take it, his fingers sliding too close to her own when she fails to let go first. She stares at her hand. "Thanks."

  


* * *

  


They stay for about an hour, leaving just as the after dinner rush begins. Following him outside and onto the street, she almost walks straight into his chest when he stops suddenly, turning to face her. "Let me give you a ride home."

"But -- I'm not on your way," she says cautiously, like he's somehow forgotten the triangle their boroughs form with Manhattan.

His gaze shifts from hers to somewhere over her shoulder. "Right, yeah." He shrugs, and smiles a little. "Sorry."

The smile almost undoes her. For just a moment -- a second, maybe less -- she wants to ask, _perp or vic?_ and throw her weight against him, to see if he still knows how to catch her before she falls.

She takes a small step back and offers him a smile of her own instead. "No problem."

  


* * *

  


**THURSDAY, DECEMBER 11**

  


He gets to work first, already at his desk and on the phone when she walks in. Dumping her coat on her chair, she heads over to make a coffee, automatically shifting to her right when she hears him hang up and walk over.

"Morning," he says, his hand resting on her shoulder as he reaches for the sweetener, and it's a light touch, his weight barely on her, but she feels it all the same, that familiar pressure that --

_(touch me again and i will)_

It's been a week. She -- _they_ \-- can control it.

She leans back just enough for the touch to be real and smiles. "Morning." 

  


* * *

The End

**Author's Note:**

> ORIGINAL URL: <http://anr.livejournal.com/325863.html>


End file.
